


When I'm down on my knees, you're how I pray

by hellcsweetie



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellcsweetie/pseuds/hellcsweetie
Summary: "Tell me you don't want me, Harvey," she all but breathes out, eyes going from his own down to his lips.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	When I'm down on my knees, you're how I pray

Donna had thought she’d stopped getting her hopes up when it came to Harvey. She’d seen, over and over again, how he was incapable or unwilling to express his feelings, to make a decision regarding their relationship. She knew better than to keep giving him endless chances, and she was tired of waiting around.

And then came Paula, and the kiss, and Harvey breaking up with Paula to keep Donna in his life. He’d made a huge gesture, given up something important to him for her, even though he fumbled the ball initially. He’d chosen her. And despite the still slightly awkward situation between them, they had spent Mike and Rachel’s wedding practically glued together.

That night it felt like the world had fallen away and it was just the two of them, once again connected in that way only they could be. They had laughed, and joked, and been there for each other as they grieved the loss of their best friends. And they had danced, fast and slow, bodies twirling and glued together, his cheek against her temple and her chin on his shoulder. Their hands held each other the whole time, her palm in his, his thumb brushing the bare skin of her back. It felt like they were finally ready to let their walls come down, ready to stop the game of cat and mouse they'd devised a decade earlier.

Except nothing happened. No kiss, no night spent together, no declarations or even a conversation. He texted her Sunday night to check in on her after they finally said goodbye to Mike and Rachel at the airport and that was it.

She's been incredibly emotionally - and, unfortunately, sexually - frustrated ever since. No matter what she does, she can't forget the look on Harvey's face as they danced, the way he'd told her she looked beautiful, the way he set her skin on fire with the simplest, chastest touch. It's been three weeks and it all burns brightly in her memory, but Harvey hasn't made a single move. Sure, they'd shared a couple of drinks after work, but they all ended like every single one before them.

She would ordinarily be fine with being the one to make the move, but this is Harvey. She doesn't want to risk things unless she's sure, and after his reaction to her kissing him - and him making her promise she'd never do anything like that again - she's not sure of anything.

She can feel her frustration grating on her, making her short-tempered and acid, easily irritable and with a slight penchant for irritating others as well. And things in the bedroom aren't going great either. She hasn't been in the mood to go out with anyone, but she used to be good at taking care of herself and now even that is ruined. She thinks of Harvey involuntarily, his voice low in her ear, his heavy hands, his tongue. She comes, but it's always only half satisfactory - she's always missing something more. 

She hasn't gone this long without sorting herself out in at least one of those two arenas and it's driving her mad.

Which is why she takes a deep breath when she sees Harvey making his way to her office.

"Hey, you done? I thought we could have a drink," he says amicably, leaning against her desk, which makes her irrationally more annoyed.

"I can't tonight, Harvey," she offers him a tight smile as she shuts her laptop, standing up to gather her things.

"Why not?" he asks, clearly unaware he has no more right to her personal schedule than everyone else on the planet.

"I have a date," she's not even bothered to share, feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction at the way he freezes momentarily.

"Oh," he replies simply, and even though she's not looking at him, too busy getting her coat from the hanger, she can feel him shutting down, his armor sliding on.

"What, Harvey?" she huffs, shooting him a look over her shoulder.

"Nothing. It's just been a while since we last had drinks together, that's all," he shrugs, faking a casualness she absolutely knows he doesn't feel.

"We had drinks two weeks ago, that's recent enough," she rolls her eyes at the wall before striding back to her desk to get her phone and cable.

"If you're fine with two friends who work together only seeing each other once a month, I guess," he jibes pettily and it grates her.

"Can you just come out and say you're jealous so we can get this over with?" Donna rolls her eyes directly at him this time.

Harvey recoils instantly, face scrunching up in indignation. "I'm not jealous."

"Sure, fine," she huffs again, angrily stuffing her scarf into her bag, almost desperate to get out of there.

"I'm _not_ ," he almost scowls at her, "I'm just saying."

"You know what? I'm so fucking done with that!" she snaps, spreading her arms and turning to him, her desk separating them. "You're always saying you're not jealous, or that it bothers you but it doesn't mean, or that just because you don't, or whatever else, but that's _bullshit_ , Harvey! You _are_ jealous, and it _does_ mean, and you _do_. And you keep kidding yourself but all that does is make us waste time!"

The silence that follows is sepulchral. Needless to say, Donna didn't mean to say all that, but maybe she'd been bottling it all up for too long, and that coupled with her mood as of late and Harvey's repetitive hot-and-cold shtick made her explode.

Harvey looks like a picture-perfect deer in the headlights, still frowning slightly but none of his previous bravado and self-righteousness visible. She'd get some satisfaction form it if she weren't completely gobsmacked by her own words.

"What are you saying?" he asks meekly, frozen in place, as if afraid a more abrupt movement might disrupt their whole balance.

This is it. This is the make or break moment, the turnaround point, and Donna needs to decide if she wants to hit the breaks or continue full steam ahead. It takes her a surprisingly short moment to realize there is really only one possible answer.

"I'm saying it's time, Harvey," she exhales, stepping towards him, her whole body thrumming with nervousness but resolve strangely settled inside of her. "It's been a decade of this. I can't take it anymore."

She can see him swallow, can imagine how terrified he is, because her words aren't all that clear but she keeps taking more steps towards him as her heart keeps speeding up.

At this point she isn't even completely adamant about getting a positive response. She'll take acceptance or rejection as long as it is definitive, because they keep going back and forth and she literally cannot stand another second of it. If he doesn't want her, he doesn't want her, and she'll go home and lick her wounds and find a way to get over it, but at least she'll know.

"Tell me you don't want me, Harvey," she all but breathes out, eyes going from his own down to his lips.

Harvey just watches her, completely astonished, and it takes him a moment until he seems to find his voice. "Donna, we can't." It's choked and quiet, and it's not a no nor a yes; it's not good enough.

In a move even Donna herself doesn't understand - and possibly in direct contradiction to what she's been promising herself for months -, she drops to her knees in front of him. He follows the move with comically wide eyes.

Her hands slide up the sides of his legs, stopping at his thighs. "Tell me you don't want this," she prompts again, voice raspy because despite their weird context she's still on her knees for him and there's no way this wouldn't affect her. "Tell me you don't think about the last time I did this. That you don't miss it. That you don't close your eyes and pretend it's me when you're with other women. Tell me that night didn't ruin you for everyone else. Because it's like that for me, Harvey. Exactly like that. And I refuse to believe you don't feel it too."

Truth be told, she might have preferred an approach that didn't include her confessing all this, that didn't leave her open and vulnerable while allowing Harvey to keep his cards close to his chest, just like it's been for years now. But she's been playing the hot and cold game too. She's made declarations and insinuations and taken them back later, or made moves she tried to write off as nothing when they actually made her insides explode like fireworks. She's been hiding too, and even if this doesn't lead them to being together, she wants it all out in the open. No more secrets.

Harvey continues to stare at her in silence, and she can almost see the gears in his head turning madly, trying to understand what the fuck is going on, trying to decide on an answer. The silence lasts a beat too long, and fear creeps up her spine, telling her it was all for nothing, that she made a fool of herself, _humiliated_ herself, even, just to have him let her down gently.

"I can't," he croaks out, and her stomach drops. Whatever happens, she swears to herself she won't cry, won't let him see he broke her. She clamps her mouth shut and takes a breath, preparing to stand back up and go home. And then-

"I can't tell you all that," he repeats, and his voice is breathy and low but it is also firm. His hands are grabbing onto the edge of her desk, knuckles white, and his eyes are dark and fixed on her. His words click, and the pit in her stomach is consumed by butterflies.

The hands that are still holding onto his legs make their way to his fly, pausing on the button of his pants. She wants to make sure he really wants this, that he's not just going along with her or getting swept up in the moment.

One of his hands releases the desk and grabs her arm, squeezing it gently. He doesn't move away, nor tell her to stop, so she doesn't.

Carefully but expertly, she unbuttons his pants, pulling the zipper down, and a surge of heat rushes down her spine when she notices the fabric is already straining to contain him. She doesn't slide his slacks down, mindful of the fact that they're still at the office despite the slightly later hour and the fact that she's literally on her knees, which is not very inconspicuous behavior for a law firm.

He sighs as her knuckles brush his semi-hard dick over his briefs and she bites her bottom lip in anticipation, body humming. She parts the fabric and traces his covered shaft teasingly, circling her index around the head repeatedly. She feels his breathing speed up as his stomach contracts and hunger builds within her.

She lowers his briefs gently, taking hold of his cock as soon as it's free. He's almost ready and it makes her smug, to know she had that effect on him while barely touching him. She gives him long, lazy strokes, just to get him fully hard because she can't wait to taste him. He's panting already, hands probably cramping from grabbing onto the desk.

When he's good to go, she licks her lips and looks up, finding his gaze dark and fixed on her. She takes a breath, anticipation coiling in her belly, and lowers her head.

The moment her tongue finds him, Harvey's eyes fall closed and his lips part around a long sigh.

The skin that's exposed underneath his rolled-up shirt sleeves is covered in goosebumps, which gives her goosebumps too. She slides further down his shaft, engulfing him, feeling him twitch in her mouth, and Harvey's brows crease, eyes still helplessly closed.

She sets a rhythm, bobbing her head meticulously, trying to cover every inch of skin she can reach. Her fingers wrap around his base, aiding her movements and alternating slides and twists. He's panting in earnest, the sound loud in her empty office, and it's like music to her ears.

"Donna," he gasps before he finally reopens his eyes, looking down to watch as she works him up, sucking on his tip, licking his underside. He reaches for the hand that's resting on his hip for stability, taking it gently and brushing his thumb over her knuckles. It's such a delicate, tender act that it brings tears to her eyes. It makes her believe that this isn't just him letting her get him off. This is a future.

She speeds up, humming as he hits the back of her throat, closing her eyes to focus on the feel and taste of him. He's big, and she wants him inside of her, can feel herself wet and ready, but for now this is good enough.

His other hand comes down to brush her hair away from her face and she opens her eyes again, finding his face soft and open and filled with a wonder she's never seen. Her heart explodes in her chest, making her fall even more in love with him, and she translates it into her moves, releasing him and laying soft kisses down the sides of his shaft.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he whispers, and she can hear the satisfying strain in his voice. She moves down to his balls, sucking on them gently like she remembers he likes, and his eyes scrunch closed.

"Fuck," he breathes out again, chest heaving as his hips shift with the effort of not thrusting.

She decides to put him out of his misery, reclaiming his cock and bobbing her head quickly, swirling her tongue around the tip on her way up.

"Donna," he croaks, "I'm gonna-"

She doesn't stop. Instead, she looks naughtily into his eyes, smirking around his shaft, and scrapes her teeth delicately against his skin.

"Donna," he warns again, squeezing her hand, and she slides further down, ready to take him.

He comes with strangled moans and she waits until he's done, licking him clean before she releases him and licks her own lips, waiting on her knees for him to recompose himself.

When he does, he helps her up by the elbows and brushes her hair behind her ears before bringing her in, kissing her gently, tentatively, as if she hadn't been blowing two minutes ago. She lets herself enjoy the taste of him again, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning into him as his hands hold her waist close.

Later, when they're tangled up together in his bed, sated and sticky with sweat, he'll tell her again, voice low and sweet, that she was right. That he did miss this, that their night did ruin him for everyone else, that he did think of her when he was with other women. And that he's glad he will never have to again.


End file.
